


The Legend of Puddles

by Brate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new take on an old urban legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Legend of Puddles

"I can't believe you did that!"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"That has to be the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."

"I didn't hear you coming up with any alternatives."

"But—"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"But—"

"I'm not talking about it anymore, Sammy. It was him or me."

"But you roasted a poodle in the microwave."

" _Zombie_ poodle, dude."

"Still."

"I'm just glad it worked. Can you imagine my epitaph if I'd been killed by the damn thing?" Dean shook his head. "That would be embarrassing. Definitely would've kicked me out of the Hunter's Club."

Sam's lips curled in disgust. "Now what do we do with it?"

"I don't care," Dean said. "I'm not cleaning it up."

"Well, it's not as if we can leave the… _remains_ …for the little blue-haired owner to find."

"If you're so worried about her, you clean it up."

"No way."

Dean shrugged. "We'll just take it with us and dump it in the trash."

"First we killed her dog, now we're going to steal her microwave?" Sam ticked off the infractions on his fingers.

"Come on," Dean wheedled. "It's not like she'll want to use it with exploded Puddles all over it."

Sam stopped short. "The poodle's name was _Puddles_?"

Dean snorted and nodded. "I saw the tag when I was fighting it. We did her a favor."

"Oh, I'm sure that's the way she'll look at it, Dean."

"Whatever." Dean glanced around, eyes settling on the couch in the adjoining room. He pointed. "Go grab that afghan."

"Why?" Sam asked warily.

"To wrap this thing in." Dean unplugged the microwave and pulled it out to the edge of the counter. "I don't want anything leaking on the car seat."

Sam hesitated. "What if it's a family heirloom?"

"Huh?" Dean scratched his head and looked at the appliance in confusion. "It's only a few years old, Sammy, definitely no heirloom."

"Not that," Sam said, "the afghan."

"Oh, for the love of…never mind." Dean marched into the living room, snatched the blanket off the couch, and covered up the microwave. "You too good to carry it, too?"

"I'll get the door," Sam said. He hustled out of the kitchen.

"You'd still be considered an accomplice, dude," Dean called after him.

Dean shoved his burden into the Impala and slammed the door.

"God, I hate poodles."

"I don't think that one's overly fond of you, either." Sam eyed the lump in the backseat, then looked around nervously. "We done here?"

"Well, the neighbor's cat looked awfully suspicious."

"Get in the car."

Dean laughed.


End file.
